"Just walk away..." she said, as my eyes filled with tears

you know those habitual patterns in your life? those "people"? for me it was the jealous ones...the envious ones... what if you just walk away from them...what if?

young woman dancing with fire on top of the tor on a Strawberry Full Moon night, Glastonbury, England…photo by me, taken with her permission

I am experimenting with writing more from my experiences and less about them. You know… the posts that people like? The ones I have learned how to write with “seven things that will give you something, (something almost everyone wants), if you just do them. Sometimes I realize when I have finished writing that I have offered a list of tips, and I highlight them and title a post like that. And people tend to open them. But I rarely check that and usually it is by accident when I click something on my dash board here and am faced with a thing called “stats” which can be daunting, inspiring, or I guess… “never good enough” depending on my point of view. I usually go for daunting and disconcerting if I take time to do the same thing with “Stats” I can do with a compliment or a hug and take in that over two hundred people are listening.

It touches me a lot.

I have to take it in for short moments when I notice or I start to feel worried the next thing…might not be worthy of so much care and attention.

Sometimes, like just a few minutes ago, as I wandered towards my little white table with my morning cup of tea, preparing to write and schedule this post a bit ahead of time (and now it is already Wednesday, so it is not that much “ahead” after all…but the Wednesday before the Wednesday next week, which is the day before you will see this… Oh my gosh, this is actually how my brain works and yes, I was the one in school who finished her papers months before they were due…and oh, well, now we are getting somewhere…somewhere that is close to back on topic (can you put parenthesis inside parenthesis inside parenthesis because I am feeling a bit like that and it may be due to too much tea which I put actual, real, unprocessed, refined sugar in…and two different kinds of tea bags and by the way…those classmates…well they didn’t appreciate me turning my papers in…I could feel it…there it was…jealousy…envy…the day before the papers were due…they wanted to be me…they wanted what I had…to be finished with it)). (Did I put the right number of parenthesis…? not sure…here are some more…).

And jealous, envious people make me nervous, which is why I have yet to tell you the actual story I came to tell and why my cup of tea is already gone and I am going to go take a breath and make another one. And then we’ll start.

Except wait…

I forgot to tell you this.

Why I am attempting to write more “from” things and less “about” them.

I spoke to my editor last week. The one who just read my unpublished book. She said the parts in it where I “showed” rather than “told” the reader things, were the best. She especially liked the part that is the most terrifying for me to add in, which I only wrote with her encouragement during my third re-write. I called them “The Sex Chapters.”

“Some parts of your book” (and horrifyingly, she was referring to “The Sex Chapters”) “just made me gasp!” she continued, with a satisfied smile and a gleam in her bright, discerning eyes.

I have been slightly grumpy ever since. It is much easier to tell people things that I can put in a list of helpful tips. But those are the parts it seems, my book needs less of.

And despite my grumpiness, I want to finish it. I want the process to be fun. I want it to do its thing for people, the thing she is going to help it do through great feedback, even when I don’t want to hear it.

And there is another aspect to this book. I shamelessly use it when people ask me the horrible question that makes me silently quake a bit:

“So, what do you do?”

“I have a blog on Substack, and I am working on a book this year,” I say.

Except I also do what I do when I am nervous and become jittery and overly transparent.

“And it’s free…my blog. Just be careful when you sign up to scroll down a bit.”

Which leaves them wanting more information about what I actually DO that has allowed me to be standing in front of them wherever we are standing…in front of the bathroom stalls, or waiting somewhere in line for a plane. Often I have made the fatal error of mentioning I sold everything and left the US. But then I explain I lived in El Salvador for two years but decided to travel this year because I couldn’t find a place to buy and it just felt right and no I am not sure where I am going but I feel drawn to spiritual sites… And I am talking like that, rather nervously, because I am nervous.

If I can’t explain myself, if I can’t give them a sense of something I have been through that was hard…they might be jealous. And that absolutely terrifies me.

It started when I was young.

“How does it feel to be Teacher’s Pet?” inquired my Hispanic classmate who I hardly knew as we walked across a field towards PE class. It was the first thing she ever said to me. I was in fourth grade.

I grew up in a small town in Southern California…inland…and there were mostly upper middle class people who lived there and hispanic people who worked for them. We all went to the same school and the hispanic kids dressed differently and played together, or later in high school, they stood together against a wall during breaks between classes. The two groups kept their distance.

But for me, I think I could have related to both of them, if it had been allowed in the strange rigidity of the unspoken class system in which I existed.

Of course my young classmate didn’t know anything about my life or my living situation. She was envious. All she saw was “Teacher’s Pet” and she wished for something I had. It was a strange question at the time, because I could feel she wasn’t just asking to be cruel. A part of her really wanted to know how I had done whatever she saw me doing.

In some ways my childhood at that point was amazing and magical as I was living on my great grandmother’s thirty acre property with hiking trails and fruit trees.

I was also living in her guest house with my parents, who acted as caretakers there in exchange for paying what I remember as $100 in monthly rent. Rats ran through the walls at night, we had no heat except for a tiny wood burning stove and the only interior door in the house was the one on the tiny, shared bathroom.

I don’t know where or how she lived.

I didn’t know back then that I was a traumatized child. I didn’t know what trauma was. I am sure that my parent’s didn’t either. But I was. And I was also frolicking in the sour grass, climbing trees, eating fresh oranges, and listening to bedtime stories my mom read to me.

But all she could see was one thing. The teacher liked me and I loved my teacher.

I remember one day, after school as I said goodbye to Ms. Garrison and headed to find my bus for the forty minute ride home, I kissed her on the lips when I hugged her goodby.

I cringed immediately inside and thought “Why did I do that?”

I don’t think my teacher held it against me or thought much of it. But I never forgot. It was one of those moments of life regret that hid inside coated in shame and confusion.

Of course, my mother likes to do the same thing… and I avoid those kisses.

And I can still feel that shameful moment with my teacher, just the tiniest bit.

Hang on a sec—

I am going to pause and give that place and part of myself some care and compassion for a minute.

Ok, I’m back.

I know Ms. Garrison, a single mom with a young son, with long blond hair and cigarettes I only saw her smoke once, really liked me and encouraged me, and I liked her just as much, right back.

I needed that kind of care like someone needs water in a desert. Grades were just my side hustle.

Overall, I found school tedious and entertained myself having races with my friend, Doris, to see how fast we could get our math worksheets done. We would tear after one another and run to the front of the room to turn them in.

And of course, whenever I could, I always sat in front.

So that other child who asked me: “How does it feel to be Teacher’s Pet?” and who was dealing with her own struggles that were probably different and yet not so different from my own, was jealous.

Which scared me, even though I can’t tell you exactly why.

I don’t have a specific memory of why envy and jealousy has always felt dangerous. I just know that things never seem to go well from it. I don’t feel loved, or cared for. I don’t know what people will do. I know I can’t trust how they will treat me because they are seeing through a distorted lens. And people do crazy things they justify when their glasses are twisted like that.

Somehow, my soul just knows this.

And for some reason, it is worse when it comes to women. They are the ones that scare me the most.

Jealous women want what they imagine I have.

In the past, it might have been my boyfriends, my figure, my grades, or my life circumstances. Sometimes, I think, they wish they were me, with no idea what that actually meant. Like that little girl on the playground.

It happened again here in Glastonbury.

I was thumbing through clothes in a shop. I love the artistry of clothing and here they have the most magical items. There are fairy dresses, thick layers of skirts with fringe, tiny tops, flowing things, heavy woolen things…they even have cloaks…with hoods on them (I have wished for one of those in a dark blue color more than once but there is no way I will add a heavy woolen cloak to my suitcase on my way to the tropics).

“That would look beautiful on you,” she said, as I fingered some silky little blue hued camisole I didn’t need (I had already bought a similar one a few days before in a thrift shop when I was looking for a warm t-shirt to sleep in…and it was small I told myself…it didn’t weigh much…and it was orange with sparkles…I might need it if I went to John’s (John in the founder of Mi Premier Bitcoin) event. I didn’t plan to go. I plan to be in Egypt deep in the bowels of a pyramid…but it was also inexpensive. I rationalized my way into buying it.

I wasn’t going to do it again.

“I’m just looking,” I said. “I have always loved beautiful things like this, but I can’t carry them with me right now as I am traveling this year. I hope you don’t mind if I just browse a bit?”

And that was when it happened.

In an unexpectedly venomous and sarcastic voice and eyes that were directed towards me like daggers she said, “Mussssst be nice.”

I left quickly after that shaken more than I like to admit.

I thought about it later.

“She is probably not happy with her job, Terra. She is probably not happy with her life right now and her situation. And she doesn’t know how to change it, or she is too scared to. So she projected all that anger at you. It’s not your fault…” (I like to talk to myself like this as I need that kind of kindness and perspective sometimes).

But, the memory returned now and then like a thorn I just couldn’t quite get rid of.

That is another thing about women. I think we often don’t forget.

And I was tired of this lifetime issue I have faced, when it comes to jealous women. In fact, I was starting to resent it.

Which is probably why, as I sat in one of the workshop’s at the Chalice Well and the facilitator said: “Ask for a word to represent something you are ready to release,” the word, “Resentment,” came to me.

I imagined the water flowing through my body and energy field washing it all away and filling me with Compassion.

It is tiring to hold onto resentment. I prayed to release it and asked without asking, why it was something I have had to deal with?

A few days later, I found my way to Timo’s. My ex-husband’s name was Tim, but that only crossed my mind once as a strange coincidence.

Timo’s is a tucked away little cafe that obstinately breaks the unspoken rule here in Glastonbury that every cafe will not serve food after 3pm. People have to go to the Pubs for that. Which has caused me to dig my heels in and refuse to go to any pubs. Instead I growl and munch on nuts and fruit in my room late at night determined to make it to breakfast.

But Timo, also the owner of said cafe, had seen me glance in and walk by, and then come back again. I had continued on to a little vegan place a friend recommended. When I opened the door it echoed with loud music and the man behind the counter said, “I’m sorry love and we aren’t serving food after 3pm.”

I needed peace and I needed nourishment.

I headed back to check out the other place I had just passed and as I walked inside a waft of warm air surrounded me and I heard the gentle hum of British people chatting quietly together at tables and booths scattered here and there. It was cozy. There was music playing in the background I liked and had never heard before. It wasn’t too loud.

I approached the counter and sighed. Timo looked at me and said, “It looks like you have found a place to land.”

Then he sold me soup, substituted salad for bread like I wanted, and brought the bread too…with thick pads of real butter just like I like.

“Would you like something to drink? Chai perhaps? I make it myself.”

“It’s too late for me to drink chai,” I said. “But I love it.”

“No worries, love. I make it myself. It’s caffeine-free.” He mumbled something about fresh cardamom as he held out an open jar of spices for me to smell.

“Ahhhh…then, yes please,” I said.

As I settled into my seat, someone nearby mentioned I had discovered the place where all the locals came and it seemed to be true. They all seemed to know one another. There was a nice smell wafting around which I later learned was incense, made by another patron. There were also a few colorful notices taped to the door announcing upcoming events that would be held there. One had something to do with astrology.

“What’s this?” I asked, as I glanced around what now felt more like a cozy living room, for anyone who might be willing to respond.

“Ahhh,” said a woman from a little group snuggled up behind me next to the window. “That’s Janetta. She’s amazing! I learned so much last time I went. It’s life changing that is.”

I was tempted but the truth was, I knew hardly anything about astrology.

Another woman, like a stereo speaker, from across the tiny room chimed in, “She’s amazing. One of the best!”

It was a process after that to get a ticket plus I decided to go big and ask for more. I figured if she was so good, maybe I would enjoy getting my chart done by her and see what she said? I had never done that and had toyed with the idea for years.

Glastonbury is said to be formed as a physical map of the constellations in the sky. Various hills correspond to astrological configurations. For instance, the Tor, which I am staying at the base of, is related to Aquarius.

At first, Timo said, “I think it’s sold out but I can get you her information.” He went into another room where I could hear him fumbling around a bit. When he returned he explained that Janetta had no phone number or website. This was surprising to me as I was told she used to be the astrology columnist for a famous magazine called Marie Claire.

“Here’s her email,” he said.

Janetta, I learned through an email exchange that on my end, took place in the Chalice Well parking lot, which was the only place I was allowed to use my cell phone at the time, was headed out of town soon and I wasn’t able to get in touch with her in time to book a personal session. But she informed me there was still space in the group class and I could get a ticket from Timo.

A few days later, I was sitting in a similarly-cozy group, except now it was 7:00 pm. I think I was the only one who wasn’t a local, although by then I was looking into if it was possible to become one, at least part time.

Janetta, in a warm dress that looked like a cozy, long brown sweater that went half way to her calves and hugged her like a teddy bear, smiled at me in welcome. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t fit in a session. But I’m glad you made the class!”

The words felt like a distant hug from a new friend.

I noticed she had spread a large, round cloth on the floor the size of a carpet with symbols of astrological signs around it. I entertained myself pacing around the outer edge while a friendly grey bearded man sitting next to his wife coached me on the names of the symbols and I repeated them.

“Scorpio, Libra…”

“Let’s get started,” she said. “Are you all ready?” as the gentle hum of conversation continued to hum for a moment. But it didn’t take long for everyone’s gaze to turn towards her. She had a sense of presence that filled the room.

“Let’s start with a movement and a sound for each of the constellations, so you can get familiar with them. I’ll stand on each symbol and make a movement and a sound that fits it and you copy me. I’ll tell you about it as well, so we can all get familiar together with them."

The workshop was about ascending, also known as rising signs in one’s horoscope.

“We’ll get into more detail after this,” she said.

All of us had little paper cards in front of us where Janetta had made sure she had confirmed our sun, moon, and ascending signs.

Mine looked like this:

Cancer is my ascending sign and I didn’t know much about it.

“The sign people say they are when they talk to one another is the sun sign,” she said. “But tonight we are going to learn about the other one, your ascending sign. In astrology, the signs are like doorways. Your ascending sign is what you show to people, or how you present yourself. Your sun sign, the one you are used to telling people you are, is closer to what you are like underneath that.”

By now, I was paying close attention. I had no idea astrology could be fun like this.

When Janetta got to Cancer, she held her arms like they were cradling a baby, which also reminded me of the symbol beneath her feet. “Ahhhhh” she said, as she rocked her arms back and forth.

“Ahhh,” we all repeated, mostly with a British accent, as we tried to move our arms in a similar way (it was difficult not to hit our neighbors as the tiny place was packed).

“Cancer cares about others,” she continued. “It is sensitive and other people’s opinions matter to it. It is goal oriented, but it moves towards its goals kind of like a crab, in a sideways motion. It doesn’t like to be seen as needy and it fears rejection. It is likely to retreat into its shell if it is rejected. And it is good to have a shell. You just don’t want it to turn into armor.”

“Oh my,” I thought as I grabbed my pen and started taking notes. This lady is good.

She explained how we can balance our tendencies, and how the sign across the wheel from the Ascending sign in our birth charts was also an aspect of us, just often the one we projected outside ourselves and didn’t feel as comfortable embodying. (I think mine was Capricorn, if that is the one that is a goat, and I noticed that it was one of the signs I knew very little about. From what she was saying, I could use a little more of it. And I am a Libra. To me that sounds like a need for balance.

When she got to Libra she announced, “Now people think Libra’s are indecisive or always trying to find balance. But that’s not the case at all. Libra’s weigh their options. They think about things and use a lot of discernment. But they aren’t indecisive. Almost the opposite.”

I took more notes. By now I was writing as fast as I could in the dimly lit room. Those British locals were right. Janetta knew what she was doing. I planned to see if there was any way I could fit a session in with her after her trip. I hadn’t told her how long I planned to be here.

At 8pm she announced a break for people who had ordered dinner. I went and chatted with another astrologer for a few moments who assured me I needed (that was the word she used, which I always see as a red flag) to hire her for an AstroCartography session as I was clearly a bit lost when it came to finding a place to live. I told her that that was the only time I had hired an astrologer in my life and that I didn’t like the place he sent me too.

She sniffed. “He must not have been very good,” she said. Then she muttered, “This dinner is cold,” as she gazed across the table at me.

I imagine she is good. She and Janetta seemed to be close friends and once in a while she chimed in with her take on something when Janetta asked her a question. But I was clear about the person in the room that was working well for me and it was the one wearing the teddy bear dress.

I was relieved when Janetta said, “Let’s get started again!” as it was time to make my way back to my cozy seat tucked behind the bearded man and his wife. I plopped down on the cushion on the bench and noticed Janetta had placed two ceramic bowls on a table next to me.

“Those are for later,” she said, when she saw me looking at them.

I picked up a little round, ceramic disk inside one and whispered to the grey-bearded man, “What are these?”

“Those,” he said, pointing to one bowl, “are symbols for the constellations.” “And those” he said, pointing at the tiny fired disks in the other with symbols that looked like runes, “represent the planets.”

I was intrigued and wondered how she planned to use them.

Janetta continued talking and I continued writing things down and wondering what some of these terms meant like “declination” and “crossed-this-and-that.” I started to imagine that the cloth on the ground was more three dimensional and that astrology had a lot of complexity going on. I felt like a beginner in this room of people who seemed a lot more comfortable with what she was telling them. Often they nodded their heads in understanding. Once in a while, I held up my hand and timidly asked a question. She always answered thoughtfully and kindly. She was reminding me a little of how I felt with Mrs. Garrison.

“Well, its been quite an evening and I think it’s time we wrap up now,” she said…and then her eyes brushed over the two little bowls a few inches from me.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” she said delightedly (she clearly liked what she did). “We’ll finish with this. If you like, you can draw a little planet and constellation from each bowl and I will see what comes to me to tell you about it.

I was excited to join in.

She started on my side of the room and I was the second person of the twenty or so there, who she extended the bowls towards. I felt all the eyes upon me and I am sure my nervousness had something to do with my Cancer Rising. It took a bit of the Virgo I know little about to move forward intentionally and not lose myself thinking about them.

I felt which disk was mine to draw…I can’t explain just how I do this, except I took my time and moved my fingers slowly over the tiny shapes underneath them. It only took a moment. I handed her the two disks.

“Venus in Scorpio!” she announced to the room.

“Ahhhh…” they all knowingly said.

(I had no idea what it meant…).

The room was dimly lit by little orange lamps here and there as Janetta had turned off the bright overhead lights. It had to be approaching 10 pm.

I looked up into her eyes and I felt the energy between us shift. We were in a different dimensional space for a moment. And those eyes held wisdom. I felt tears prickle in my eyes as she spoke into the depths of them.

It was only a moment. Maybe a minute that she spoke. I put the disks back in and handed the bowls to the bearded man. But Cancer Ascending in me noticed the pink haired, probably-Scorpio nearby take note of how deeply I was affected. She whispered something kind as Janetta moved on and I grabbed my notebook to write down the most important thing I could put into words. The one that had caused my eyes to start to prickle.

It was something that could change my life and I knew it.

“Trust you can pull what you need towards you and when it comes to envious women…just walk away.”

Sometimes, I get scared not knowing where I will go next.

Sometimes, I get scared of people’s reactions. (Perhaps that is because God gave me a star chart with Cancer Ascending).

Sometimes, I stay when I want to leave.

“…when it comes to envious women, just walk away…”

I saw the woman in the shop in my mind again. I had walked away. But this was an invitation to do it differently. From a place of sovereignty and choice. “Just walk away”…I didn’t have to suffer from the dynamic.

And the other part…about trusting that what I need will show up…

That felt so soothing.

I only called one place last time I needed to move somewhere new, to see if they had a room available.

It is the place I am in now.

My mind, when it saw the sign out front with the phone number on it, told me it would be booked and expensive. But I have learned to give it a pat on the head and then do what is calling to me.

So instead of walking into town to a coffee shop and spending a few hours hunting for my next location on my computer, I had it in minutes.

I am in a tiny, peaceful room that is perfect for me. It is my second week and I still have two weeks left before I will be heading…somewhere.

I have been sleeping well, better than I have slept in years despite not getting up to see the sun rise (it is too cloudy) or set (it is too late and I am already in bed).

Something else is happening in this room for me that has to do with softness, quiet, and a frequency that I hear from a place beyond my ears. The room is humming with energy that I imagine comes from the Tor and my body likes it.

All I had to do was trust and make the phone call despite my mind’s arguments. The fact that it had happened with such ease had left me a bit stunned. I wanted to live more in the energy of that.

“Trust you can pull what you need towards you.”

If I can do that, I will be living in a much different energy than I have been used to. I won’t be the little girl hurrying up the hill to catch the bus in time after hurrying to eat a bowl of Cheerios with brown sugar. I won’t be scared. I will be calm…sovereign…flowing.

I imagine there are things for all of us like that. Things that feel so good if we make it ok to “just walk away…”

Sometimes they are big things that come with repercussions and then it is a process to feel and know that things are being pulled towards us, if we allow it.

In the end, one gets to choose.

Like the lady in the little shop, one can stay in a situation, or one can pray and find a way out. Both are choices.

The more I walk away from something, the more I also walk towards something new.

And that touches me.

A lot.

locals on top of the Tor watching the sun set…

and then, on the other side, the Strawberry Moon, as it rose on the opposite side soon after

another fire dancer…celebrating…the full moon is a time to let go of things…and welcoming in the new…with intention

and me…wearing new earrings made by Rachel for me and trying on one of her other creations, just for fun

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